


Only Embers Glowing

by musegnome



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), but figured better more info than less, heat-triggered snake transformation, not sure how to tag this one, quasi-snake sex?, the temperature kind of heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musegnome/pseuds/musegnome
Summary: Turning into a snake happens far too quickly when one gets warm. This makes intimacy... a challenge.A belated entry to the Snake Pit!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 204
Collections: The Snake Pit





	Only Embers Glowing

The little room is dark and cold. A single candle burns on a table by the door, but the fire in the hearth is banked, with only embers glowing. There isn’t much else to warm the stony floor and walls. A small rug; a cloak draped over an abandoned pack; a blanket flung to the ground and crumpled in a corner.

A narrow bed has been pushed up against the wall and Aziraphale is laid out atop it, half hanging off the edge: one foot flat on the bed, the other braced against the floor. He keeps his legs as far apart as he can, trying not to touch the man knelt between them. It’s not hard to spread them wider as he lifts his hips and surges up into Crowley’s mouth.

He’s half mad with the hot wet heat of it, with the flex of soft lips and the curl of long tongue around his cock. Crowley’s deft fingers cup his balls and pull gently with each slow suck downwards. Aziraphale moans with pleasure, losing himself in the rhythm. 

He doesn’t realize he’s pressed his leg against Crowley’s side until he feels that tongue narrow and stretch impossibly longer, and the teeth lengthen too – two of them anyway, mercifully not piercing but caging his cock on either side, the scrape of the thin smooth fangs a surprising sensation. His breath hitches in excitement, but Crowley makes an anguished noise as he quickly and carefully lifts his mouth away. There’s nothing careful in the way he lurches to stand, staggering backwards away from Aziraphale until his back hits the opposite wall. 

Their panting breaths echo softly in the bare room.

Aziraphale closes his eyes and groans. He moves a warm hand to himself and strokes with the slick and the spit, slowly. He doesn’t want to be cold, and he’s close, and he doesn’t want to leave Crowley behind when he comes.

“Goddamn it to hell, angel,” Crowley bites out. “How do you stay so bloody _warm?_ ” His voice shakes, and Aziraphale cracks an eye to look at him. It’s hard to tell in the flicker of the candle, but Crowley is shivering.

Aziraphale sits up on the bed, forgetting himself in his concern. “Crowley. You’re practically frozen, love!” He reaches for the blanket. “Do you want –”

“What I want, angel,” Crowley growls, “is for you to get on your knees on that bed and face the wall.” He flattens his back even further against the cold stone. It’s a testament to Crowley’s will that in spite of the chill his cock is still flushed and hard.

After a moment’s hesitation, Aziraphale obeys. Turning his back to Crowley, he kneels on the narrow bed, placing his hands against the wall. The stone is like ice under his palms. He wonders how Crowley can bear it. 

He hears footsteps behind him, a rummaging through the pack, a tiny pop of the cork in the little vial they carry with them. There are the wet sounds of oil sliding against skin. Two more footsteps, coming nearer, and a hiss of warning just before there are cold fingers against his side and cold _slick_ fingers slipping between his cheeks. Aziraphale jerks, biting back a yelp; Crowley stills his hands until the oil warms, quickly, against Aziraphale’s hot flesh. He spreads the oil generously, the pads of his still-chilly fingers teasing the tight ring of muscle until Aziraphale moans with need.

Aziraphale spreads his knees wider, sinking down against the bed, and feels the tip of Crowley’s oiled prick against his hole. They wait together, a stopped moment in time, and finally Crowley presses slowly inside, just the head of him. With careful tips of his hips he moves in and out, a little deeper each time, until he’s sheathed to the hilt, bottomed out in Aziraphale’s heat. Aziraphale writhes in delight.

Focused as he is on Crowley’s movements inside him, every thrust dazzling him with stars behind his eyes, it takes Aziraphale a bit to notice that the thighs sliding against his own are becoming rougher. Starting to scrape. They rasp against him, and suddenly Crowley is pulling out and away with a snarled oath. 

Quicker than a snake Aziraphale whirls and catches Crowley’s wrist. His lover’s eyes are full yellow, the vertical pupils almost invisible, and dark scales pebble his legs and groin. “Aziraphale – I can’t –” Crowley gasps, trying desperately to move away.

Aziraphale pulls Crowley toward him, free hand fisting in Crowley’s red hair and drawing his face down, their mouths hot together, fangs pressing against his lips. “I know, Crowley,” he murmurs. “I know.” He lays himself back down on the little bed, bringing Crowley with him. He wraps his legs around Crowley’s waist. 

Crowley keens as their cocks slide together. He takes his own prick in hand and guides himself back into Aziraphale, who arches against him, crying out as Crowley pushes in. His knees clasp Crowley’s hips; his calves cup Crowley’s arse; his heels drive into the backs of Crowley’s thighs, and with each flex of his legs he drives Crowley in deeper. 

The roughness is spreading faster now. Down Crowley’s legs, up his sides and arms. With his cock trapped between them, Aziraphale can feel it when the small curls of hair beneath Crowley’s navel give way to smooth scales that lightly abrade him with each thrust. A few more moments and he’s coming with a shout; as his spend spills hot against their bellies, he can sense a scatter of scales following its trail. Crowley pounds into him harder, his sharp hipbones grinding into Aziraphale’s thighs with a pressure certain to leave delicious bruises on the morrow. In an instant he’s following Aziraphale over the edge, and Aziraphale feels heat bursting deep inside as Crowley comes, sobbing against his chest.

When their heartbeats slow and they’re calm again they lay tangled and quiet, and Aziraphale cards his fingers through Crowley’s sweat-damp hair. The heat of their lovemaking envelops them, and they both know it’s about to tip Crowley over a different sort of edge; the change is rippling through him too swiftly to stop now, and Aziraphale watches black scales bloom along pale skin like stars in the gloaming as Crowley sighs and relaxes into the transformation. Even Crowley’s cock is changing; Aziraphale feels it shifting inside, and as Crowley hastily slips out of his body his hips give one last, involuntary buck as Crowley catches briefly on his rim. He closes his eyes, again.

In the darkness behind his eyelids he senses the legs and arms fusing, the pointed chin and rounded skull flattening, and the whole body stretching out into an impossible length.

The thick, muscular rope that is now Crowley slides slowly upwards, drawing itself through the sweat in the crease of his hip, scales rasping along his flank. Aziraphale opens his eyes with a groan. He knows he has to get moving before Crowley settles himself and pushes up out of bed, ignoring Crowley’s hiss of protest. Fishing his shirt off the floor, he uses it to clean himself before rolling it and stuffing it back in the pack. He has a spare, and he has to do the washing tomorrow anyway. He picks up the rusty poker that sits on the hearth and prods the banked embers back into life. Now that Crowley’s finished shifting, the heat isn’t anything to worry about any more. 

The small, cheerful blaze is already warming the room when Aziraphale turns back to the great black-and-red snake curling himself up in their bed, staring at him with golden eyes. He shoves, ineffectually, at Crowley’s coils – even his strength isn’t a match for Crowley’s in this form – but thankfully, Crowley slithers aside to make room. He retrieves the blanket from the floor and drapes it over the two of them, stretching out full length in the bed as Crowley glides back over him, draping himself across Aziraphale’s chest and tucking his blunt snout against Aziraphale’s neck. 

Drowsy, Aziraphale strokes warm fingers across his lover’s smooth sides. “Don’t worry, dear,” he sighs. “You’ll learn to control it soon.” He feels Crowley’s forked tongue flicker against his throat. “And if you don’t,” he adds, with a lazy smile, “we’ll manage."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a human fantasy AU I’ve been tinkering with. Considering I have 4 other WIPs (as of March 2020), some with quasi-deadlines, I wanted to get this out there so it could be out of my head. But it’s sticking with me, so there’s likely to be more of this world in the future!
> 
> This is the first smut I've posted, and I was too shy about it to ask for a beta. So any issues are all on me.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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